Tuesday, 31 December 2013

Wassail! Wassail all over the town!
Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown;
Our bowl it is made of the white maple tree;
With the wassailing-bowl, we'll drink to thee!

The Christmas season is about to end. Officially, it would end at Epiphany, but really, who really celebrates after the New Year nowadays? I was wondering how to celebrate the last day, while the spirit of Christmastime is already pretty much over. I have uploaded before the Gloucestershire Wassail, and I thought it suits the New Year as much as Christmas celebration. While I don't think I will drink a proper wassail, which is some specific kind of mulled cider, and may not have even mulled wine tonight, I already drank two pints of ale, and it was indeed a brown ale. In the end, what matters is not the drink, but that you drink to people's health. So as I drink to yours, I invite you to drink to mine listening to this song.

Saturday, 28 December 2013

I have learned from this book that today is Holy Innocent's Day, so I have decided to upload here the Coventry Carol. It is one of my favourite carols, which as I explained here I associate with D&Dr, in spite of the gravity of the subject. It is still Christmastime, but Christmas is going soon, so I thought one last carol would be nice.

Thursday, 26 December 2013

This is an old picture of Odin, when he was called Homer, taken by his owners years ago. Back then, he still had his left eye intact and he didn't have visible scars. His fur was very black too, no sign of grey or of the strange bit of fiery red I could see sometimes on him. Not on this picture anyway. When I first met him, he was more worn out and did not look as healthy. Then with lots of feeding and TLC, he looked much better. You can sill see it is Odin thought, with his defiant attitude underneath the Christmas, when he seems to have done a bit of a massacre of some of the decorations. This is the feline friend I knew and love.

I am blogging about Odin again because I thought a lot about him recently. I associate Christmas with Vikings and Viking mythology, so it was natural, but looking at this picture it struck me that it is something I wanted to experience with him, to spend Christmastime in company not only of a cat, but this cat. It was in fact, the thing I was looking forward the most at Christmas. During the weeks prior to his tragic death, Odin really helped me get through those dreary November days and nights, his presence and his attitude brought me lots of happiness. I was so looking forward to spend time with him, take a few pics of him by the Christmas tree, or in the snow if there was going to be any. No snow came this year, but Odin is gone anyway. And he was really all I wanted for Christmas this year. So I look at this picture and I feel very sad, but I cannot help looking at it.

This has become a Christmas tradition on Vraie Fiction: I am uploading Good King Wenceslas. as I avoid the Boxing Day, I consider the 26th of December, the Feast of Stephen, or more precisely Good King Wenceslas's Day, because of course of his namesake carol. This is sang by Loreena McKennitt, taken I think from her album A Midwinter Night's Dream. I love this song not so much about its moral message, although I do like that this is about generosity and kindness rather than devotion, but because of its atmosphere: cold winters and heavy snow just peak to me. So here it is anyway.

Wednesday, 25 December 2013

Merry Christmas everyone or, as I say now and maybe for now on, Good Yule! I have decided to embrace Christmas' Pagan roots. Not like a neo-pagan, but more like a Godless heathen who loves the primitive symbolism of Christmas, which Christianity never really tamed. So yes, troll the ancient Yuletide carol, as I said before. And I associate Christmas with Norse mythology, from which it heavily borrows some of its most famous elements. Hence the Viking ship you can see on the picture at your left, it is a Christmas tree decoration my family bought in Sweden I believe. And there's a snowman who managed to get in the frame, but the thing I wanted to show the boat more. So yes, good Yule everyone! To my Christian readers, my fellow heathens and the rest. Eat, drink and be merry.

Tuesday, 24 December 2013

No, no, I did not commit any crime myself. I learned recently some news that surprised me: Vito Rizzuto, the presumptive head of the Italian mafia in Montreal, died of a pneumonia. Apparently of natural causes, which would be darn ironic. I can't say that I will shed any tears for this man, as I hate what he did and represented. A darn shame he did not die in jail, as he should have had. Anyway, at least he will not enjoy Christmas. I couldn't help but think of The Godfather when I learned the news, partially because Rizzuto had been nicknamed and labelled the godfather of Montreal (and probably considered himself to be) and because like the title character he died naturally. Funny because The Godfather is also among my list of Christmas movies, as many key events and plot turns in the movie happen during Christmastime. I have uploaded here the movie's introduction to the Christmas season. When death is looming above the festive spirit, it shows the darker side of Christmas in a gripping realistic fashion.

Monday, 23 December 2013

As my readership knows, I borderline obsess about trains. I have even blogged about them less than a week ago. I am no connoisseur, I mean I wouldn't know how the whole engine works, but I was never blasé about them. Since childhood, I love train as a mean of transport, maybe the first modern one, as a piece of technology and as an object. I find old trains aesthetic. And I love the atmosphere of train stations, some more than others obviously. I love the look of them too, old ones especially. My fascination with trains and everything related to them dates back to a childhood Christmas when my father bought us, and himself, a LGB electric train. I got hooked since then. My brothers and I played plenty of games set around the train, from pure fantasy ones where the train was going to the North Pole to "realistic" action thrillers.

My father bought a train station to go with the train years later. I think I was already a grownup, or at least a teenager, or young adult. Unfortunately, it was not a LGB one, but a Playmobil station. I am not sure they even sell stations at LGB. But it is still a good one and it does have the cachet of many old European stations. It is at the center of the village at the bottom of our Christmas tree, surrounded by many, many sheep we have gathered from all around the places we visited, houses (made of fluffy stuff), a Scottish ox, a few more animals and on the side there is a koala hanging on the pole of a Swedish flag (!). It is now the centerpiece of the base of our Christmas tree.

I don't know if many here are fans of Seinfeld, but those who are probably remember that today, 23rd of December, is Festivus. A fictitious holiday that has become real, at least to some people, enough so that there is a website dedicated to it. And a fanbase to follow it. It even got into a bit of controversy recently. I was not a fan of Seinfeld, but I always liked it all the same and I found this particular pseudo-holiday hilarious. So to celebrate, here is the bits of the episode where Festivus is featured. It hasn't aged.

Sunday, 22 December 2013

I don't know why, but I remembered today a joke I heard during my year in Liverpool, around Christmastime, about... well, Christmas, Liverpool and Nativity scenes. Here it is: "They tried to make a Nativity play in Liverpool for Christmas, but they couldn't do it in the end. They could not find three wise men and a virgin." Maybe it is a bit vulgar, but it is nevertheless so very funny, especially if you know Scousers.

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Well, this is my yearly Christmastime post about Dungeons & Dragons, to celebrate decades of times playing my favourite role-playing game in maybe its best environment, the time of year where it brings such atmosphere. I blogged about it before and it has since become more or less a tradition on Vraie Fiction. Last year, I even blogged about it twice, here and here. Like almost every time I do blog about D&Dr, I accompany the post with a picture by classic fantasy, sci-fi and of course D&Dr illustrator Larry Elmore. In fact, the post pretty much an excuse to have some of his art on this blog.

This image is from the cover of The Bloodstone Lands module from the Forgotten Realms campaign setting. I never liked Forgotten Realms, well in fact I never liked much of the already-made settings of D&Dr. I much preferred our created world. That said, the name of the lands is great, and what a tempting image, if one ever wanted to play in a campaign setting. This picture works so well. There is the snowy background, the beautiful winter landscape. There is even a pine tree, so you have your Christmas tree (albeit without lights or decorations) on the image. At the center of the image, you see a duel between a wizard and a fighter, the wizard seemingly the evil one, with his goat's skin used as a hood, and the top of his staff is also a goat's head. Goats obviously have devilish associations. So yes, I always loved this cover. And to fully enjoy it, or, why not, a game of D&Dr this Christmas, if you play it, I give you again O Come, O Come Emmanuel, a Christmas carol which I also associate with my favourite game. I often do with Christmas carols, but this one in particular, and as it is also a tradition from Vraie Fiction this time of year, here it is.

Nous sommes le solstice d'hiver aujourd'hui. Donc la journée la plus courte de l'année. C'est l'hiver pour vrai partout dans l'hémisphère nord, même dans les endroits comme ici ou il n'y a pas de neige. C'est plus déprimant, mais je tenais à souligner le solstice d'hiver. Et puisque pour moi l'hiver doit être enneigé, j'ai téléchargé ici une photo du sorbier familial sous la neige.
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We are the winter solstice today. So it is the shortest day of the year. It is not winter for real, in the Northern hemisphere at least, even in places like here where there is sadly no snow. It makes the solstice look dreary, but all the same, I wanted to commemorate the winter solstice. And since for me winter is snowy, I have downloaded here a picture of the family's rowan tree in the snow.

Friday, 20 December 2013

I first heard this song by The Pogues here in England. I first really started listening to it and paid attention to the lyrics recently. And I fell in love with it. I usually prefer old Christmas carols and think fairly little of new songs. But this one is brilliant, it is grim and bitter like Christmas can be sometimes, it is not preachy one bit like too many Christmas songs are. Yet, it remains festive, in spite of the bitterness and the disappointments life brings us. So I am uploading it on Vraie Fiction. Enjoy.

Thursday, 19 December 2013

I watched yesterday on the BBC The Great Train Robbery, based on, well, the great train robbery of 1963. It created a bit of controversy, as some people thought it was glorifying criminals. But I think the story had to be told and is very relevant. Because it made UK crime history. Heck, it made history, period. And however delicate the subject matter, I believe in the importance of memory. That, and I find such historical crime drama, history turned into fiction, to be cathartic. I loved it anyway, loved the top class acting and the characterization, the setting, everything. It was quality. And tonight there is the second part, showing the following investigation.

And watching it, something struck me about their motivations: I wonder if the robbers did not do it because they were going to rob a train and not a bank, that they didn't do it at least partially because it was an exciting setting. A train, in motion, that you need to stop, to ride a little bit even, then to empty of its content. They had to take into the account railways, signals, workers, a whole web of elements that make train travel possible and that don't exist in a bank. I think their was a bit of boyish mischief in their crime. Are there any children not fascinated, to a degree, by trains? And so many remain fascinated by trains as adults. I know I am. So I wonder if that was not their motivation: to play with a toy.

Anyway, what is the book about? It is about a presumably young man, Edward, sending his beloved fiancée Emily, who lives with her mother, each and every one of the items of the song, mainly, but not only, birds. Noisy birds. each and every day of the Christmas, for the whole twelve days of Christmas. Emily tells the story through letters sent to Edward, first completely smitten by his romantic idea and grateful for his original gift, then less than thrilled, finally outraged. There is a brilliant crescendo in her anger until the final bang, where the drummers drumming (the entire percussion section of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra) show up on the twelfth day. I don't know why Liverpool's orchestra, but since I lived there for a year, it also adds to the pleasure of the text to me. In the end, it is simply a deliciously funny book. Whether you love or hate the original song that inspired it. Oh, and the pictures! They show such a display of emotions. And you can almost smell the menagerie.

Tuesday, 17 December 2013

I mentioned recently in a post about mulled wine the restaurant dinner with Odin's former owners. What I did not mention then, because I wanted to write a blog post about it, is that the waiter was Italian. He could also speak a fairly good French, which he was eager to use, so he spoke to me in French, but knowing he was Italian, I said my usual: "Io parlo bene italiano ma non capisco una sola parola". I say it as often as I can. It always has the same effect: the native Italian speaker thinks I am fluent in Italian, sometimes even thinks I am Italian myself. Sometimes I sound like a Southerner, a Neapolitan, a Roman, this time it was a Northerner. I am an all round the map pseudo-Italian. Anyway, he quickly saw that I was not a native, but just for the effect the line made, I think it deserves to be considered a great unknown line from now on, if I haven't listed it among them before. I talked as much as I could in Italian that night when ordering. Moral of the story: there is none. It was simply an Italian moment.

Monday, 16 December 2013

I waited an extra ten minutes for the train for my commute home tonight. On a Monday night, it feels like an extra ten minutes that would usually feel like a fraction of Purgatory, yet I barely noticed it. Trains have been running late quite a lot recently, either way of my commute. It is now even snowing yet or anything, yet it feels very much like winter has messed up the train line. And it is barely winter. Something struck me when I stepped in the packed train: people seemed so resigned. Quiet, bored and resigned, as if they are all waiting for something. Christmas is coming soon, so people don't complain or even grumble about minor disagreeable moments. And I still love trains no matter what.

Sunday, 15 December 2013

This is a decoration from the family Christmas tree: a pine-cone turned into a little person, maybe a gnome, holding proudly a Swedish flag. I am putting it up for a few reasons: because it is a beautiful, simple decoration, my family and I have a bit of history with Sweden and because as I blogged before I associate Christmas with Norse mythology. I love my Christmas primitive in a Pagan way, with the Christmas tree represents some representation of Yggdrasil, the mistletoe is the instrument of the god Balder's death and overall, is all about the return of light after darkness. I am very tempted to call it Yule. I will blog more about it in the coming weeks. Now, as I haven't uploaded music on Vraie Fiction for a long while, I thought about uploading a Christmas carol that is more secular and mentions Christmas' Pagan roots. I immediately thought about Deck the Halls, with its instructions to "Troll the ancient Yuletide carol". Although the troll of the lyrics is a verb, not a troll, it is still primitive. I was not much of a big fan of this particular carol, unless I started paying attention to the lyrics. Now I love it.

Saturday, 14 December 2013

Tis the season to be reading, and as I often do as Christmas is coming, I am today plugging another Christmas related book. This one is particularly close to my heart. It is The Atheist's Guide to Christmas. Because I am an atheist and I love Christmas. I blogged about how I lived Christmas an atheist before (here and here, among other times). But anyway, since I don't think there is any God or gods to celebrate, let alone one made flesh, it is nice to see that I am not alone to view Christmas as secular. There is of course, in America but also in the wider Western world, a hysterical attitude among some Christians fearing that their favourite holiday is being taken away from them. I am referring to of course to the so-called War on Christmas, an imaginary war feared by paranoid religious fundies. The guide may be about the multiple faces of the celebration, the ways one can celebrate and interpret the holiday, more than it is trying to stir a controversy, nevertheless it often challenges this dubious claim that Christmas is exclusively Christian. It explains the pre-Christian and primitive roots of the holidays and shows how our enjoyment of it can be areligious as well as (and this may surprise some) non consumerist. Understanding Christmas, its origins and its manifestations is for me a way to enjoy it and love it even more. And there is such a lovely diversity of perspectives in this book, from artists to scientists too. So it is a must read, not only for Godless heathens like me, but maybe a few Godly people too.

Thursday, 12 December 2013

I was reading in this book (which is among my Christmas reads) its chapter about mince pies, when something struck me: mince pies are pretty much not so distant cousins of the pork pies, or meat pies (pâtés à la viande as we call them in Québec) which I have been eating all my life and which are an important part of the traditional Christmas supper in Québec. I blogged about the pie recently in French, surprisingly the post got me many comments from my non-francophone readers. You can find the recipe on PJ's blog here. Anyway, here is my theory: both pies are important, in their respective region of the world, during the Christmas season and are closely associated with it (even though we can eat meat pies all year round in Québec, they ar emore prominent during Christmas). The mince pie is a pie from which the minced meat has now been taken off, while in Québec, the pork pie is made of minced meat, more precisely pork and some veal, but has no more fruit. It has still, however, some spices and herbs in it. And anyone can see the family resemblance. So there you have it. Something that has been so familiar to me has its origins in at least the middle ages. I might make a wish every time I start a pâté à la viande now. In any case, I encourage all my friends in the blogosphere to try the recipe on my brother's blog. Te meat pies are delicious and a perfect substitute for pigs in blanket.

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

I long for snow, I wish there was some, but so far no snow has fallen on this part of England. That said, I was lucky in other ways, as since yesterday, but especially today, the fog has fallen over this bit of land like a thick pea soup. And I love a foggy day. I barely read on the train today because I spent time looking outside, everything is so beautiful and eerie. I took this picture of the pub by the train station tonight. Not a very good one (compared to, say, this one), but it gives a good idea of the thickness of it. Walking through the fog today and tonight, in the cool English winter air was really enjoyable. I had to be careful though, especially at rush hour, as one could barely see two meters away in some places and I was wearing a black coat. But what a beautiful sight. There are not many places as beautiful as this town on a foggy day. Or a foggy night.

Tuesday, 10 December 2013

We are Tuesday today, which means, of course, Tyr's Day. The day of the Norse god Tyr. I have blogged about the god Tyr, this too little known Viking god here and here. I have decided to celebrate the almost forgotten Aesir (the name of the Viking gods) again, because I like him a lot. Therefore I have downloaded again a picture from Gods & Heroes from Viking Mythology. Drawn of course by the admirable Giovanni Caselli. It is from the story of Fenrir being chained, when Tyr had to give his hand as guarantee to the demonic wolf. An admirable act of courage and sacrifice by Tyr, as he knew he was sacrificing his hand for the greater good. The image is in fact the second half of this one. You see Tyr with his freshly chopped off hand, Odin behind him and other gods, looking very carefree in spite of the gravity of the moment. So yes, Tyr is my favourite Viking god because of his courage and this is an example why. It may not be as impressive as fighting a giant, but it is much more admirable.

Monday, 9 December 2013

No, no, I don't mean as the main course of the Christmas dinner! I meant as a decoration for the Christmas tree. This picture was taken last year at my parents' place and it is of one of the birds decorations we have in the Christmas tree there. We have a whole lot: partridges, robins, blue jays, among other birds. And pheasants. Like this one. I think it is a pheasant anyway, I might be wrong. If there are amateur ornithologist among you, or even specialists, please do not hesitate to correct me. I thought about blogging about it because, until in relatively recent years, I had never seen a live pheasant. Now I notice them on my commute, by the train station. In the wild, no less. But for years, the only ones I had seen were in the branches of our Christmas tree.

Sunday, 8 December 2013

As I mentioned on this post, tis the season to be reading, so I this post is plugging a book for your Christmas reads. If you have plenty of time to give to it during the holidays, I suggest you spend one day to read it through, in one sitting or almost. The novel is Nothing Lasts Forever by Roderick Thorp. I do not have the luxury of time, so I am "only" nearly halfway through it. I am making it last, so to speak, hopefully until Christmas day. In short, the story is about a private investigator, Joe Leland, stuck in a corporate building on Christmas eve as terrorists took over the place.

If it sounds very much like the plot of Die Hard, it is because it IS the plot of Die Hard. Or rather, Die Hard took the plot of the novel and adapted it to well, an 80s action flick (as you probably knew as it says it right on the front cover at your right). It gave birth to a very successful (if often dumb) movie franchise and a whole action movie sub-genre with countless clones. I always enjoyed Die Hard, I loved the premise, but I never found the movie as brilliant as people seems to believe it is. Too much of a conservative libertarian fantasy for my taste. Joe Leland very different from his movie equivalent: he is a bitter, divorced and widower, a father and grandfather, so he is no longer in his prime. He is also a sobered alcoholic, haunted by many, many demons. It is not his family he is visiting, but his estranged daughter. The movie was a fantasy, the novel is a gritty, violent, uncompromising piece of crime fiction. I mentioned before that there is a darker side to Christmas. Well, if you do enjoy this dark side, do read Nothing Lasts Forever.

Saturday, 7 December 2013

I am longing for snow, so I calm my longing by looking at pictures my father sent me of my very wintery home town of Chicoutimi. Here is one I particularly love, of the family's snowy garden. Can you find and count the turtle doves? The garden is full of birds all year round, various species of birds, but in the last few years there are many and mostly turtle doves. My father loves them and gets protective of them. They are particularly fitting during winter, and I guess even more so during Christmastime, because of this song. Here they camouflage fairly well in the snow, but you can still see them.

Friday, 6 December 2013

Today is Saint Nick's Day, which I was reminded of by a German colleague. It is widely celebrated in many parts of Europe. For me, it is this legend/song and the day was this awful movie my brother PJ offered me one Christmas. But since I already blogged about it in French tonight, I thought I would blog about the modern Santa Claus, or rather the reindeer that carry Santa around the world. I took this picture at the Christmas fayre yesterday. They often have reindeer in such fayres. I have seen reindeer in captivity like this fairly often, and at least once... on the table. It was during a family holiday in Sweden, our hosts, the family of the foreign exchange student who had lived with ours for a year (our Swedish sister as my bros and I call her) had prepared this very unique roast. Delicious, I have to confess. Of course, I had reindeer meat, which we call caribou in Québec, on other occasions, but it was in a tourtière, so I did not distinctly remember the taste until I had this experience in Sweden. I associated the animal a lot with this country, maybe as much as I associate it with Santa Claus. And I have to say, seeing them so close yesterday made me feel guilty about eating their meat.

Thursday, 5 December 2013

Tonight, there was a Christmas fayre in town, one of those outdoors markets that sell lots of charity things and plenty of food and drink, including mulled wine. An elderly man at one of the stands offered me a cup, I politely refused explaining: "I had plenty yesterday and woke up with a nasty headache." He replied, undeterred: "You may have had a worse wake up without it." This made me laugh, and I decided to make it our new great unknown line, the first of December and of Advent. A perfect one for this Christmas-related post and to its seasonal topic.

So yes, mulled wine. Yesterday, I drank this glass of mulled wine, in the company of Odin's owners. It was as an apéritif before one of the best restaurant dinners (suppers really as it was late) I had in ages, but I digress. I will blog about the food another time. Now, the wine. It was absolutely to die for, the best mulled wine I had in life. It was just warm enough, just spicy enough, with a nice tang to it, powerful in a soft way. Perfect for the cold winter night we had yesterday. I came to mulled as of late, one year in my twenties my parents and I made some to make Christmas a bit British, I think we used the recipe on Wikipedia. It had been good, but not like that one. I do drink it from time to time, but not very often as I am more of a beer drinker and I have had good ones, enjoyable ones, but it didn't strike me until last night on how good it can be. So I think it will become a Christmas tradition for me. My liver may suffer for it, but so what?

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

A friend of mine reminded me today on Facebook that Liana Macellari Burgess died this day, 3rd of December 2007. She was of course the second wife and the widow of Anthony Burgess. My favourite writer. You can read her obituary in The Guardian here. I had the privilege to meet her during a symposium on her husband a few months before her death, when I was living in Liverpool. An amazing and important moment of my life. I blogged about it here. I cannot add more to it than I already did then. I will only add that I thought a lot about her today and about this meeting, when she spoke to me in French and I tried to speak as much as I could in Italian. And that I can witness that she was a great lady.

Monday, 2 December 2013

As we are the second day of Advent, I thought my readership might like to read a Christmas story. So here is a little true life Christmastime story, so it is totally original and exclusive to this blog, that happened to me two days ago, just before Advent. It is a good deed I did, which made me quite happy. Not only Christians are good for goodness's sake, if I can say so myself, Godless men can be too. A little foreword before I start telling it: I do buy Advent calendar sometimes. Not every year, it is not a tradition I follow religiously (ha, ha, ha), but I do enjoy one small chocolate a day. In school, we had those paper advent calendar with a moralistic story on every day, instead of chocolate. It always ended with a Nativity Scene on the 24. In a way, this is my own, secular feel-good story. But it is not really moralistic.

So this year, I had in mind to buy one. Last year I had a very old-fashioned one from Marks & Spencer, with a Nativity Scene on it. This year, I had in mind to buy it from the local sweet shop. There was a beautiful one, with a lush old-fashioned image on the cover, very Victorian, with a jolly Santa Claus delivering the presents in a luxurious salon. There was a huge Christmas tree too. The cover was so beautiful, one would be reluctant to break it by opening holes on it. There was one left when I arrived at the sweet shop, a few minutes before closing time. I took it, was about to pay for it, when a girl of about eight and her mother walked in the shop and eagerly went where the calendars were. I suddenly heard a big cry: "Oh no, it is GONE!". I then saw the girl looking at the empty space on the shelf where the calendar had been. Her mother was telling her gently that there were others with a different image (but let's face it, the others looked pretty lame) and that she should have bought it earlier... And then of course I turned around and said: "I am the one who took it, but here it is, take it." The girl took it, looked at it a long while, as if she was not sure it was real, her mum had to tell her to thank me before she said a word. So that was my good deed of the day and my first Christmas good deed of the season. And I don't have an Advent calendar this year, but cannot care less.

Sunday, 1 December 2013

Today is the first day of Advent, so this is the official countdown to Christmas. Which means a seasonal change in my readings habits. Tis the season to be reading, and so on. I have recently found in Waterstone's The Medieval Christmas by a certain Sophie Jackson. I don't know how well researched it is, I am not sure if I will find anything I don't know already and the front cover is somewhat nauseating, but all the same, it is on my current Christmas read and I know I will enjoy it. Like this book on Christmas traditions I bought for mum years ago, and ended up reading myself. I have other books too, which I will blog about later this month. Regarding The Medieval Christmas, I know I will love it because I associate Christmas with medieval times, but also Pagan-influenced traditions and imagery. And also because it is one of those books that will calm my melancholia of missing Dungeons & Dragons (because I associate the holiday to the game, see this post, among others, that explains why). In any cases, it should be an easy, pleasant, seasonal read.